He doesn’t hesitate as he kisses me again, his lips claiming mine with the same sense of urgency as I feel.
Then we’re undressing each other, Raf’s hands guiding my peacoat over my shoulders as I do the same to his blue suit.
His fingers whisper across the back of my neck as he undoes the halter-top dress, and it pools around my hips, exposing my breasts.
Then his mouth is warm and wet as he leans down to suction one nipple into his mouth, and his arm snakes around my waist as he lifts me, bringing me to my feet.
The dress whispers across my hips, gathering on the floor at my feet, and I arch against him, shocked to find we’re the perfect height as he kneels to worship my breasts with his lips and tongue.
I comb my fingers into his hair, mussing it as I pull him closer, moaning at the pulses of electricity that crackle up my spine and down to my core.
He releases me with a soft pop, his lips curving into a wicked smirk as he rises slowly to tower over me once more.
I’m not a small woman—average height, really—but next to Raf, I feel tiny, fragile.
And yet so incredibly safe.
Trapping my lower lip between my teeth, I go to work on the buttons of his shirt, pushing him back toward the bathroom as I do.
He concedes easily, kicking off his shoes and unbuckling his belt without regard for the blood on his hands.
He doesn’t seem to care if he ruins his clothes—but my skin, he hasn’t touched me since he laid me bare, and I’m aching to feel his warm, strong hands all over my body.
“Into the shower,dolce,” Raf purrs, and I note the change in nickname with mild curiosity.
He hasn’t called me that since before he learned my last name, and it strikes a cord deep inside me.
I’m tempted to ask why—suddenly curious about what his other nickname for me means—but I’m too eager to obey his command.
Turning away from him, I start the shower, then glance coyly back over my shoulder at him as I hook my thumbs inside the elastic of my panties—and slowly guide them down my thighs.
Air hisses between his teeth as he watches me bend over, exposing myself to him fully as I guide the flimsy fabric past my heels.
“Christ, Aisling,” he murmurs, shoving his pants and boxers down without tearing his eyes away from me.
Smiling, I unbuckle the straps of my shoes, then straighten to step into the shower.
He follows, and the water runs red as he washes his hands of the would-be assassin’s blood.
Swallowing hard, I try not to look, keeping my eyes on Raf’s face as I reach up to pull the bobby pins from my hair.
The way he watches me makes the act feel almost erotic, and a pulse throbs between my thighs as I let my dresses fall loose around my shoulders as I shake them out.
Then he’s on me once more, his now-clean hands claiming me with renewed vigor as he pulls me to him.
His cock stands thick and hard between us, pressing adamantly against my abdomen as he leans in to capture my lips.
Then his hand is cupping the back of my head as he molds my body to his.
I can feel the rough tape of Raf’s bandage scraping against the small of my back, but it only awakens my senses as I lean into him, fingers pressing into the taut muscles that line his spine.
“Please, Raf,” I whisper into his mouth, my body throbbing to feel him inside me.
Pressing one knee between my thighs, Raf guides them open as he leans me back against the shower wall.
Then he’s reaching down, his fingers finding my slick seam, and he slowly, languorously parts my folds.
I moan, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as he gathers my arousal and swirls it around my sensitive clit.